I Live, I Die, I Burn, I Drown
by countrydoglover
Summary: What if Castiel and Meg have met before, a long time ago back when she was human? Was she one of the many occasions where he had his mind reset, memories wiped? How can one human girl make an obedient angel question the existence he lives, and what dangerous adventures can they get explore? What eventually turns her into a demon? (Megstiel takes place after 8x17, but before finale)
1. Prologue

The other day I was listening to a panel that Rachel Miner was on, and someone asked the a question about where she hoped that Meg had came from, and her answer was somewhere in the Renaissance time. I thought that would be a really cool idea, and wondered what it would have been like if Castiel had known her while she was still human. Now, Meg Masters was the human girl possessed by the original demon, so I changed the name to Mabel, and in my mind Mabel is the soul that will be twisted into that demon who is known and loved by us Supernatural fans (if that makes any sense, if not let me know) All feedback is welcomed, so please review, favorite, follow, whatever. This is my first Supernatural fanfic, and it has been a while since I have done any writing like this. The name of this comes from a poem by Lousie Labe, one that I highly recommend be read, because it is beautiful.

(The language of this will not be authentic, and for that I apologize, however I still think this is a story that deserves to be told. I hope readers can over look that and still enjoy. )

Our story begins with Castiel after Meg's death in Goodbye Stranger, but before the mess of the finale…

Prologue:

The trees were blurring together outside the bus, cars going the opposite direction zoomed by; a momentary blimp on Castiel's mind. The angel tablet was safe in the duffle bag, nothing more he could do until he thought of another plan. But for now, his mind was somewhere else. On someone else.

When he had left Dean in the chamber where the tablet was found, Castiel felt it was a victory. He choose a bus at random, no destination in mind as to better conceal himself from those with ill intentions. Dean was alive, the power Heaven had held over him was broken, the battle had been won.

However, just as Castiel was boarding the bus, an intense pain overcame him. There was nothing wrong with his vessel; this came from his own essence.

It was in that moment that he know Meg was dead.

Never needing sleep and being on the run adds up to a lot of time to think. He thought of those last few hours together, wrapping her wounds. He brought to mind her battered face, the blonde hair matted with blood. He thought of how she had stayed with him in the mental ward. "His caretaker", as he fondly thought of her. She was a demon, he an angel, but that ceased to be of importance. However, the more time he spent with her, the more persistent the nagging feeling scratched in the back of his conscious.

He felt as though he had known her from a long time before.

Being brainwashed is a drag. There were memories, he could feel them, just trapped under the surface, and a face so similar to the demon that he had come to admire, to trust, that lingered, like a picture underwater. He only had to reach it.

Cas allowed his mind to sink, to get closer to that image… and was surprised as the memories unfolded.


	2. Chapter 1

Chapter 1: Mid 1500's England- the renaissance era…

Mabel was a bit of a free spirit. She hated to wear the slippers that pinched her feet, and she deplored anything having to do with modern fashion. While her older brothers knew how to wield a sword and would proudly march off to battle, Mabel was forced to stay behind with their mother, baking bread and patching worn clothes.

Her family wasn't poor by any means. They always had food to eat, they owned acres of land, her father and brothers had strong shields and swords to use, and the roof of their home was sound. It was the walls that Mabel felt were closing in on her, constricting the air from her lungs.

It was a rare afternoon when the sun was shining and her mother released her from her chores. Today was a special day; she could feel it in her toes. The soft summer breeze smelled warm and, as she left her slippers by the house, she could feel the grass tickling her feet. She sprinted through the pasture, her dress hiked above her knees and dark hair flying about her face, heading towards her place of peace. The place where she prayed.

It was a simple place, many would over look it, but to her, it was a slice of paradise. A small clearing in the forest on the edge of her family's land, where wildflowers were vibrant and a trickle of a creek danced by. Here is where Mabel felt close to God. A place of life. She knelt by the water, not caring that doing so would stain her dress, and bowed her head.

Unknown to her, someone was listening. Someone cared.


	3. Chapter 2

Chapter 2: Castiel watched as the young girl entered the clearing. She was devout, her love for God was evident, even if her distain for the conventions of her time made the humans around her question that. Some thought she harbored love for Satan in her heart, that somehow she was possessed with demon thoughts. If only they could see into her as Castiel could.

He convinced himself that he was only there to hear her prayers, as angels are supposed to. There was no affection, no feelings towards the pretty young girl… none that he could ever admit to. It had taken him several months of convincing his superiors that he needed to take a vessel. His excuse was there was an abundance of demon activity in the surrounding area, which isn't a lie. Demons were frequenting the vicinity in alarming numbers and with no clear reasoning, but it wasn't his main reason for confronting his vessel, a young man of faith who needed little persuasion to say yes to an angel's question. The form took time to adjust to, as the dark hair was longer than customary and would get in Castiel's face. That was quickly rectified with a hair cut so it was manageable.

Hidden from her view, he watched her kneel in the grass and bow her head. He turned off the angel voices in his mind, and focused his attention solely on Mabel.

Dear God, how I hope you can hear my prayers. As papa and my brothers are away, I pray you will keep them safe from any harm that can befall them. Please keep momma's spirits up, and provide her with the strength to continue. I thank you God for the beauty you have created all around, the food on our table, and the love in our family. Amen.

She never asked for anything herself. And she never fails to thank Father, something so few humans do. There is a special place in Heaven reserved for young Mabel.

He remembered the first time he heard her sweet prayers. Heaven had been flooded with desperate pleas, all the same. "Save me from this pain", or "I beg of you Heaven, spare me from losing my home." The plague that had been unleashed on the humans was worse than many had anticipated, especially Castiel. While fielding through these selfish prayers, one voice came through, pure and precious. She didn't ask to be saved, or to be blessed with wealth or love: she prayed that the children in town would be alleviated of their suffering. Mabel was kneeling beside the sickest child. She had baked several of the families bread when many of them couldn't afford to make their own, and then picked flowers for the little girls and asked God to help the kids see that He "will counter all pain and suffering with equal love and beauty." There isn't a selfish bone in young Mabel's body.

And she truly admires the flowers.

Her prayer concluded, she stood, mushing her toes into the mud. A dangerous gleam came into her eyes. She pulled her skirts up to her waist and proceeded to step into the creek. She splashed the water around, droplets collecting on her thighs.

He should leave. Those thoughts are leading down an impure path, one that no angel should be considering. She was finished praying, and he had no right to voyeur on a human. But when she spread her arms out, eyes closed, and spun in the water, he was mesmerized by the beauty of God's creation. How a light seemed to emanate from her soul, a blinding force that Castiel knew he would never be able to rid himself from.

Mabel wished she had wings. The soft wings of a young bird, ready for flight to take her wherever she desired. The sensation of spinning gave her that rush she expected would come from being high above the world; of seeing the view only angels and birds could see.

Suddenly, her foot slipped, and she crashed down into the water. Mabel screamed out in pain, her head hitting the shore. The last thing she saw was a blinding white light as she lost consciousness.


End file.
